


dreamnotfound oneshots

by oikawashusband



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angry Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sexual Assault, Soft Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Touch-Starved GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oikawashusband/pseuds/oikawashusband
Summary: Just some good old dreamnotfound oneshots. Most have George being sad,, so yeah. They live together in this. They're in Florida. I do not ship them irl!!
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 136





	1. The Drunk From The Room Over

**Author's Note:**

> Aghhhh... this first one is me projecting trauma I have onto George AAAAAAAAAAA I'm so sorry :(( //TW: rape, sexual assault, alcohol, drugs//

George was sitting on the couch. It was late, 2:37 am. Clay was asleep in the bedroom. George had tried to sleep, but he couldn't. How could he? They were in an apartment building, because their house was getting renovated. Clay hadn't wanted to stay in a hotel, and they had nowhere else to go, so they just rented an apartment for a month. They were only on their third night there. George hadn't gotten used to it.

It wasn't just that though,, their neighbors were loud as fuck. He was pretty sure a few people were fighting over there. He could hear the music blaring, and bottles smashing. He covered his ears as someone screamed. God.

He heard a knock at the door, and he jumped up. Who would that be? This late? Shit, it better not be a drunk from the party next door. He reluctantly opened the door and studied the person in front of him. A muscular man. A bit shorter than Clay, but definitely taller than George. He could smell the alcohol in the man's breath. He gagged.

"H-How can I help you?" he asked timidly.

The man just grunted and pushed his way into the apartment, slamming George up against the wall. George winced in pain and shivered. This couldn't mean anything good. The man stared into George's eyes and leaned in to kiss him. George's eyes widened and he squirmed.

"St-Stop it! Sir, you're drunk!" he squealed, trying not to wake Clay.

"Why does it matter,, you're so gorgeous," his scratchy voice said lowly.

"Stop! I-I'll-"

George stopped when the man took out a pocket knife, showing it off. He swallowed, his throat going dry. Not only did this man have hella muscles, but he had a knife too. He couldn't do anything about it. The man kissed George passionately, George squeezing his eyes shut as a few tears slipped out. This was disgusting. 

Not only was this man drunk, a total stranger, and probably a criminal, but his boyfriend was sleeping just down the hallway. Is this considered cheating? Will Clay be angry with him? George felt the mans hands snake inside his shirt, and he kicked him in the shin.

"Wh-What the fuck?!" the man practically screamed.

George winced. He hoped Clay was asleep still. He didn't even realize what was happening before he was pushed against the counter, a knife pressed to his cheek. He could smell drugs. Gross. He whimpered audibly. The man dragged him into the bathroom, pinning him to the wall with his arms above his head. He felt his shirt being pulled up and he started crying. This. Is. Disgusting.

He felt a cold hand go up to his nipple and... you can assume what happened after that. The man basically used him as a fucking sucker, leaving hickeys all over his torso. George held back sobs.

Back in the bedroom, Clay woke up. He needed to use the bathroom. He sat up and registered that George wasn't there. He walked into the living room, where he probably would be, but he wasn't there either. He heard noises coming from the bathroom. The door was closed, and the lights were on. He probably wouldn't think much of it normally, but the sounds... sounded like... crying?

He raced over to the door, trying to open it. It was locked. George's eyes widened in fear when he saw the doorknob jiggle. Clay's awake. His mind was clouded. He had a random man pinning him to the wall, using his body for his own desires, and his boyfriend was right on the other side of the door. He's fucked.

Clay banged on the door, and the man looked back at it. 

"Hello?" the man called out.

Clay was confused. That didn't sound like George. At all, actually. Concern flooded his head.

"Open the fucking door right now, or I'm calling the cops."

The man fell silent. He chuckled. It was terrifying. George trembled and the man gripped his already bruised wrists tighter. Clay quickly used a kick to knock off the sort of loose doorknob, the door swinging open. He stood, shocked, at the sight before him.

His boyfriend was pinned against the wall, his hands above his head, chest exposed and littered with bruises and hickeys. And a stranger was the one holding him there. Clay's mind filled with anger. George looked terrified, and dazed. The strong smell of alcohol was present. A sob escaped George's mouth.

"What the hell?" Clay murmured angrily.

He took a swing at the man, but missed, as he was kicked to the floor. George cried out. 

Clay's going to get hurt, it's your fault, George.

The man released his grip on George, the smaller male falling onto the floor. He quickly covered his chest with his knees, his body shaking violently. Clay stood up and knocked the man straight in the jaw. He held his face and snarled. Then he fled, slamming the door shut behind him. Clay immediately turned his attention towards his boyfriend.

"C-Clay I-" he sobbed.

Clay ran to George's side and pulled him into a warm embrace.

"Oh my god George..."

"I'm sorry... I-I couldn't s-stop him."

Tears filled Clay's eyes as he rubbed circles into George's back. His shaking figure calming at the touch.

"It's alright... It's alright.."

Clay wasn't sure if he was reassuring George or himself. After thirty minutes of sitting on the floor, Clay pulled away and looked at George's face. There was a shallow cut on his cheek, dried blood formed around it. His eyes were cloudy.

"George, let's get up, alright?"

He nodded and allowed himself to be pulled up by Clay. His knees locked almost immediately and he fell forward into Clay, a rush of nausea filling his mind. Clay seemed to understand, because he guided George to the toilet and rubbed his back as he retched. George fell back into Clay's lap, his small frame still shaking.

Clay picked him up, carefully taking him into the living room. He set George on the couch and examined his hickeys. Some were just a light shade of pink, while others were almost black. It was disgusting. He had been peacefully sleeping while his boyfriend was about to be... raped.

"George, babe... I-I'm so sorry..."

George only nodded in response. He was exhausted. Clay was going to get up and grab some water for him, but George grabbed onto his sleeve.

"Don't," George whispered.

He looked so broken. It made Clay want to cry. He nodded and sat on the couch, allowing George to rest his head on his shoulder. George eventually came close to dozing off, so Clay took a blanket and draped it over him. George fell asleep, but Clay stayed up. He had no clue about the identity of the person who did this to George, and that wasn't good. If they wanted to press charges they needed to know who it was. But he was so tired... he can figure this out later.

So Clay fell asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around George, pulling him close.


	2. You're Real, Georgie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George finds a video on his foryoupage. It's a man staring dead into his eyes, telling him to wake up. One of the trolls, you know how it is. He doesn't know why, but it sends him into a panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wassup shawties //TW: dissociating, derealization, panic attacks//

George was lying on his bed, scrolling through TikTok. Clay sat only a few feet away, working on editing a video at his desk. He came across a video of him and Dream during that one stream "Going Feral with Dream". It was when he said the infamous quote, "Dream's going to his secret stash, it's where he keeps his big fat ass."

George erupted in laughter, and Clay looked over at him, raising an eyebrow questioningly. George had headphones on so he had no clue why he was laughing so hard. George unplugged them and turned his volume up. Clay's eyes widened and he started wheezing. George shook his head with a smile plastered on his face and plugged his headphones back in.

He continued scrolling for a bit, and he stopped at a video of a man playing guitar. It sounded nice. But then the man stopped, staring straight into George's eyes. George felt a strange feeling in his chest. This... bothered him. The man started chanting "wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up-"

George teared his headphones off and threw his phone into the bed. Clay turned around, wondering what happened. George's breath picked up as he covered his ears. He could still hear it. The chanting.

"WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP"

Å̸̖̉̾̔͆͌̃̿̿m̸̈́͐́̈́̂̓̽̾̚͜͝ ̷̜̾͆̎̑̋́̈́̅̀I̸͙͚̺̻̍̃̏̉͗͌̚ ̸̧̋̇͛͋̾̓̾͗̃͑r̸̳̺̦͂̎͒̉͝e̸̻̹̥̳͇͑̌̐̀͆̎̃͊̈́́͊͜͝ă̶̛̤͋̿̓̄̇͆͂̐̑̾͝l̶̨̡͍̥̮͇̳͍͙͓̦͇̫͖͘?̸̟͙̲͉̙̘̝͔͉̓̾̍̋̔͐͜

w̴̨̱͎̬̼̠ạ̸̧̛̘̦̘͙͓͓̦̗̀̌͑͐̍̂͂͗̀͠͝͠k̵̛̩͈̣̮͍̰̼̼̭͍͈̣͔̗͐̅͐̄̒̌̾̈́͝ȩ̷͚̙̘̏͆̅̄̓̓̄̚ ̶̡͉̖̅́̀͑͌̽̎̕ͅų̸̡͖̟̮͕̞̰̼̼̠̋̋̆̏̽p̶̤̓̽̾̓̂̏̅̍͘͝ ̵̰͍̠̠͑̾̓͛̕w̷̝̣̜͓̫̬̪̓͊͌͑͌̓͒̀̍͠á̵̱͚̜̻̑͑̓͋͛̃͘k̶͚̹̠̊͛̂̈́̔̏̂͆̇̚͘͝ę̶̪̬̻̆̈͑̓̍͂̎̓̃̆́̈́͝ ̸̨̧̛̗̬̫͕͎͉̰͇͚͖̃͊͒͌̐̋͐̏̈̉̀ù̷̞͚̮͒̃̓̂̾͝͝ṕ̸̢͙͓̜͈̥̥̹̆̽͒̄̋̐̃̚̕͘ ̴̧̧̨̧̦̪̱̫̱̰͇̯̎͜͠ͅw̶̡̦͉̝̙̟͍̳̺̙̪̠̼͍͖̿̐͂́̈̀̒͒͋͊̿ả̷̳̩̒̌͛̈́̿͘͝k̶͓͔͂͗͒̎̈́̾͐͗̊̉̀̂̚ę̸̛̛̩͔̭̯̹͙̮̹̝̞͖̱̪̓̈́͒̒͐͋̇̋̕͘͠ ̵̡̺̥̜̭̼̬̜͈̣̑̾̒̈̾̈́ͅṷ̶̧̨̩̣̬̩̱͎̬̏́͆̈́̈p̷̨̣̘̪͙͈̝͇̤̤͓͆̓͑͝ ̵̯̋w̸̢̔͒͋͌͊̔͂̄̓̑͂a̵͔͎̟̦̱͍͖̻͆̈́̕k̵̡͈̯͖̫̖̜̫̜͕̣̒͛̎͝e̶̢̖͍̱̔̈́͒̏̃̑̈́̑́̈͑̑͜͠͝ ̶̛̗̪̈́̈́̊̓̅̈́̚͘͠u̵̹̒̌̎͐̓̀͘p̶̦̙̍͐̇͂̋̍̍͘͝ ̴̞͙̪͓̤̻͖̄̎̆̓̌̍̽̈́̅̄͝͝w̵͎̠̿͠ą̶̨̢̲͇͔͎̻̼̱͙͂̐͝͠k̷̨̙̞̦̳̣̮͇͍̠̓͋͂͘ȩ̶̡͎̯̮̫͈̦̿̔͌͛͑̃́͘̕͝ ̶̨̧̱̤̠͙͕̼̩̬͓̘́͆̈̋̔̉̑͒̄̂̌̆͘͠ủ̵̡͙̻̫̥̼̦̟̟͔͉p̵̨̨̢̺̹̫̝͕̫̳̭̖͍͚͊ ̵̨̧̛̝̟̙̳̰̫̌̕w̷͓̹̣̲̝̩̥̠̹͈̺̌̃͑͒̿̍̅̓͑͘ͅá̴̢̢̖̦̱̲̜̫̣̹̞͓͈͚̎͐̐̃̾̓̚ͅk̶̛̫͚̒͗̒̃̃͝͝͠e̵̩̰̲̣̗͉̍̈́͒̐́̿̅̍̃̚ͅ ̴̬̮͔͚͒͒̓͌u̴͍̤̜̗̩̣͖̮̗̠̗̮͒p̶̻̼͙̣̫͖̠̒̂͌̓̈́́͜ ̸͖͍̃͜w̷̤͇̮̬̠̾̉̄͛̾á̶̖̦͚͓͉̪͍̖̙̝͍̙͔̪͛̈́̓͗k̷̨̤͔̫͈͈̝̙̎͆̽́̀ȩ̴͇͉̈́̉̓͑̽͌͜ ̶̛̗̹̻͑̿̒͌͋͂̈́̂͝u̴̧̯͚̮̮̮͚͉͓̦̽̐p̴̛̝̥̠̺̩̽̎̄͆̑̑̈̇̈́̽͘͠ ̷̛̟͚͊͂̆̃͊̑̈͋͑͜w̴̫̞̯͈͎̒̉͝a̵̧͖̞̜͈̱͉̲̩̔k̴̲͉̖̖͓͔̝̘̪̰̙͕̺̜̑ę̷̠̪͔̲̣̯̬͕̞̝̥̾̐ ̴̡̣͉͓̗̑̀ư̷̧̢̨̺̫̼͍̼̥͙̟̖̣̖͖̇̾̓͂̆̋̈́̇͋͝p̴̛̜͐̌͆̌̾̂͛̕ ̷̨̢̛̥͇͎̻̦̻͉̥̣͉͊̒̈́̋̍͆̏̌̋͆͝w̸̧̧̯̻͓̱̪͖̭̫̙̣̞̤̬̑̔̕à̵̡̙̖̗͎͔̖̝̤̗̪͐̑́̌̚̚͠ͅk̶̡̧̛̯̣͕͕͚͚̜͕̾̋̅͆̾̓͋͝e̶͔̜̅̔ ̷̧̦̦̬̪̫͕̖̤̱̳̺̅̐̐̄̐̋͛̏̈͒̓ͅų̷̧̥̙͍̯̳͍̫̣̣̉̉̋̀͜p̸͍̰̍̃͒͛͆̓͝ ̷̢̡̻̹̹͚̺͓̲̩̩͙͙̻̖̌̏̉̌̒͊̌͌͂̉̈́̚w̵̧̛͎͈͍͕͕̟͎̪̆̂̓̽͐̂͊͛̑ȁ̶͙̇̏̍̄̔͂̄͝k̵̢̖̭͚͑̄͆͆̒̄̊ę̷̢̌̒̈́̃̑̆͝ ̸̼͇̺̣̙͊̄́̀̈́̓͛̍͌̄̄̍͠ͅu̷̡̹̰̳̝͍͎̍̎ͅp̷̡̛̠͔̺̺̭̫͗̇̌͂̕͜ͅ ̷̩͙̄̉̅͋w̸̝̬̭̗̟͖̞̯̹̎̐̈́̉͗̒̂̋̅̊̊̈́͌̕͜a̸͕̹͂̅̓́̐̂̂̕͠k̴̤̥̳̲͋̔̆e̵̪̫͇̫͖͊̓̎̌̌̃͐̈̿̐̌͒̕͝ ̵͕̝͙͔̯̜̪̫̈́̈́͝u̶̘̦͖̻̼͔̼̥̽͑̂̏͐̃̉́͂̌̋̓̚͝p̵̩̺͔̪̤̥̱̟̩̼̮̑̌̅͂̾͗̃̈͘͜͝͝ ̵̺̓̋́̅̉̐̅̈́͘͝w̴̲͗́̓̄̈́̈a̸̧̛͖͈͕͈̫̖̔̃̏͑̆͛̃̏͝͠͝k̷̨̙͚̯̩͕̺̪̰̠̣̳̏̋̉͛̓͛̎͂̈́̾̍̈́̒̕͜ě̴̲̬̫̫͍̘̾̅̀̅̾̒̆̆̉ ̷̧̲̙̗̯̓̈́͋̏͛͒̓̈́̒̏͋͒̚ù̴͔͕͈̠̗̮͓͍͂̊͆̀̎̃͋͝͝p̴͙̳͓̘̲͈̫͉̫̹̭̣̑̿̿̆͑̕ ̵̩̯̻̭̟̱͚͍̗̳̆̈́͋̑̇̌̊̓͋͊͠w̴̥̖̪͔̠͖̺̱̯̯͂̏͒̈̿͛̇͋̈͠ͅa̶̧̢̰̭̥̣̳̖͍̔̿͌͊͋̄̐͋̍̒̊͠͝͠k̵̗͙̗͖̫̠͙̺͕͌͛̌̈̿̾͌͊͘ȅ̵̙͖̙͖̩̬̈́ ̵̢̱̘̞̼̗͇͍͖̹̗̞̇̌͆̒͌̃͗̓̿̅̋̕͜͠͝u̵̜̟̖̻̅͂͜ͅp̴̛̩̐͐̈̋̄͗̚͘̕ ̷̧̧̖̙͕̱̩̓̽͐̌͋͗͆̚͝w̸̹͙͈̲̮̼̭̕ͅá̶̡̧̡̧̰͈̫̱̪̬͖̦̑͒͌̔͑̇͠͝͝k̸͙͉͓̤͑̊͂̋̈̇̐̇͋͌̇͝͠e̶̙̰͕̩̟͇̞̪̘̖͋͜ ̶̨̟̞̙̱͙̝̣̫̣̻̰̼̲͚͒͑͆̽̑̎̓͝ų̸̛̫͇͈̣̘̲̩̗̭̯̱̙̎̽̉̿̋͑̿̒̋̆̒͋͗ͅp̴̘͎̬̩͓͖͇͈̈̆̄͆͊̚͝͝͝͠ ̷̨̛̠̪̜̮̱̏̆͛̅̊w̷̡̘̼̯̲̻̤̹̜̗̳̼̗̽̔͛̾̏͗͂͝͠ả̵̧̛̬͈̳̮̱͕̼͚̱̤̥͚͔̻̆͊̊̐͝͝͝k̶͚̝̔̆͋̇̇́͐̓̈́͜͠͝͠ȩ̵̛̣͎̱̱̠̬̩̰͔͋̽̄̽̎̂̍̾͊͘ͅ ̸̟̻͓̣̞̘̼̦͈͑͂͑̎̾̆̿̿͜͠ͅͅụ̸̢̪̮͖̹͍̭͕͑͂̈́̓͌͋͌́ͅp̷̢̨̤̘̻̻̞̗͖̓̉͗͌̈́͐͒̚ ̷̧̦̫̘̰͇̭͎͈̫̻͔͙͐͆̌̇̽̈́͠͠w̴̧̡̥̦̳͔̰̘̣͖̾͒̿̈́ą̵̧̘̭̥͎͇̺̬͔̞͍͑̾̕ͅk̷̻̺̗͔͒̄̏̿̏̄͒͑͂͆͝ë̵̳̯͙͔̱̬͇̦͈̥͇̈́̊̃͑̀̎͛̿͝ͅͅ ̸͇̜̻̬̪̮̱̜̬̤͚̙̝̠̬͑͊̽̂̐̓u̵̥̗͔͒̓̃̒̏͑̐̆͂͠͝p̴̢̛̪̱̼̣̻̪̙̞̳͋͒͗̽̊̅̈́̄͝ ̴̨̛̪̙̭̼̩̬̬͕̻͓͆̉̀̄̆̚w̸̼͈̗̰̫͎̟̌̀̉̈́̍̽̾͊̓̋́̕͜͝ä̸͔̬́̒́̌͋̇̈̊̍͆̂̍̚͝͝k̶̢̛͚̱̼̝̲̪͓̫͖̓̐̽́̋̓̏̕ḙ̴͒͑̅̊̅̂̆̿̉̓͠ ̴̨̫̝̪̖̻̙̪͚̙̭͚̞̌̚ͅų̶̢͎͕̝̻̥̭̬̤͔̔̽̈́͆̈́͘p̶̫̈́̈́ ̴͈̜̩̱͇̳͇̠͕̰̟͒̒͊̈́̀̀̿̕̕ẃ̷̺̩͂́͋͋̽͊͘ä̷̡́̋͑͒̉̍͠k̶̨̢̥̣̫̈̽ȩ̸͓͓̲̱̘͈̼̜̥̩̣̹̌̐̓̇͜͠ͅ ̷̦̮͇̘̏͂̌̉̊̔̐͑̒̚̚͘͘͜͝u̶̱͇͕̻̟̱͉̙̠̹͔̗̍͗ͅp̷̡̛̮̠̩̖̯͆̈́̀͐̾̈́̄͂͠ ̵̛͎̜̫̳̻̩͙̥̍̊̉͌̒͂̈̅̉͛͊͆̎w̵̪̣̞̟͖̮͈̄͆̆̋ą̸̨̟͖̳̮̱̔̎̏̽͑̿͒̓͆̋͜͜ķ̷̪̍̉͐̄̑̓͗̇ͅẻ̷̡̥͙̣̘̖̌̔́̂̀͛̚͝ ̷̨̯̩̪̙̲͚̥͔̰͖̤̫̪̰̑͐̒ư̷̪̹͙͐͆̈̐͂͐͛̆̒̓̔̒͝p̵̛̳̖̗̲͔̮̪̹̳̤̭̿̍̿̆ ̴̞̺̲̠̠̞͈͕͚̍̊̎͑͗̈͋̄̓̈ͅw̶̺̭̥̖̦̣̍̾̈́͘͜ͅả̸̖̞ķ̸̧̰͍̰̩͔͖͉̻̥̻͚̐͋̾̈́̒͐͘͘͘͘͝ë̴̲́̍͂̄̏̅͗͆̓̚͝͠ ̷̢̓ṷ̶̡̺͈̺̜̣͋̏͋͂͂̌͂̉̒̕p̸̨̟̱̬̮̳̥̻̺̑̋́̄̊̆̚͝

George didn't feel like himself. He didn't feel as if he were in his own body. He took his hands off his ears and looked at them. Were those his?

Clay was shaking George's shoulders, getting no response from the smaller male. George just seemed to stare off into space, dazed. He pulled away from George and picked up the phone, slipping on the headphones. He watched the video that he assumed set his boyfriend off, and his mind filled with concern.

"George,, George..." he called out.

George's eyes flicked up to look at Clay's face. Clay took note of the confusion in George's eyes, and took charge.

"You are real. This is real, you aren't sleeping."

George only closed his eyes and shook his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. He was so scared...

n̶̛̳͌̂͆̈́̎͊͂̃̂̓̄͐̑ơ̶̡̖̼̩͕͉͍͈͎̼͔̣̭̈́̇̀̔̔̽͝t̴̢͙͖͔͔͈̲͇͈̯̣̲̝͑̃h̶̭̻̝̙̤̻͔̬̙̣̦͍͓̀́̉̑̓̽̍͘ỉ̵̡̨̛̘̜̙̫̈́̓̍̍͛̈́̊̓n̴̢̝͔͈̳̜̘̤͍͋̓̓̊̊ͅg̶͉͍̼̭̲̠̠̝͒̇ ̷͉̤̫͈̋̔̓́̔̇͒̓͛͌̕͘͘į̶̝͚͙͉̰̳̯̫̪̗̹̠͙̈́͆͂̓̉̑̐̿̃̾̓͝s̵̡̮̙̙̗͚̦̮̰͛̃́̽́̃̕ ̷̰̮̝̦̈́́̃͐͛̏͂̄̋̔̕͜͝ṙ̷̹͗̐̽̂͂̾͒͝ë̴̲̣͔̖̗̮͎̎͒̈́̈̃͌̈́͑̕̕̚͘͜á̷̧̡̧̘̳̤̺͕̥̘̮̱̖͓̜̑̅͑l̶̡̛̛̠͚̮̹̪̦͇̥̹͛̊̓͒͋́̈́͌͝͝ ̵̗̪͉̼̥͍̥̝̿́͠ǧ̵̯̹̦̺̝̦̯̈̉͌̄̅̐̋̄͑̐͝͝e̵͔̼̪̹͔̜̺̥͓̣͐̓̉͋͒̽̾̚͘͠͝ö̴͉͕̱́̔̅̀̓̓ŗ̴̼̮̳̣̺͙̯͎̪̝̲̜̖̹̏͐̈́̔̒̽̕ģ̶̮̮̮̬̬͇̗̞̘̪͍̈́͋̑̄̕̚ę̸̳͍̱̣̘͎̣̥̖͖̮̲͋̎̋͠ͅ,̶̢̺̥͈̣̪̥͈̓͜ͅ ̴̨̡̹̙̟͙̟̥̳͚̼͍̻̦͍̋̿̒̈́̑̐̽͠u̵̢̢̢͔͕͍̦̼͉̦͚͎̪͑ͅn̴̜̤̟͔̳̎̋̎̂̃̈̌̉͐͒͐͂͘͝d̶̻͖̞̟͖̜̻͈̼̠̻̦͛͌͋͊͒̅̽̑͋̋̑̏͂͘ĕ̴̪̉̃̐̐̀͋̉r̸̨͈̬̤̺̫̯͚̻̂̅̃̇̑͜s̵̡̼̘͋̿t̷̻̪̖̥̩͕̝͇͍̺̻̽́̌̿ͅa̷̛̘̞̓̆͗̕n̴͍̹̠̣̓̍d̴͎̱̜͉̟̫̲̑͛̂?̷̨̢̨̙̤̟͙̩̞̈̉̇̈́͐̐͛͊̎͒̽̃̑͘͘]

George covered his face with his hands as his body shook. Clay didn't know what to do. Suddenly, and idea flashed in his mind. It was quite stupid. But it was something that might work.

He pulled George's hands away from his face and leaned in, putting his lips on George's. His boyfriend's eyes widened as he melted into the kiss. Clay pulled away, examining George's tear streaked face.

"C-Clay?" George whispered.

"Yeah?"

"S-So this is real,, I'm not.. sleeping?" he wondered aloud.

Clay frowned.

"Of course it's real... you're awake, and with the love of your life."

George smiled fondly and ran his hand through his hair. Clay grabbed him and George jumped, as he wasn't expecting that. Clay muttered a small apology and hugged him.

"Georgie, I was so scared for you- I-I thought you had lost yourself-"

"Clay I'm alright.. I'm fine..."

George tugged on Clay's shirt.

"C-Can we... cuddle?" he asked timidly.

"Of course."

Clay laid down and George nuzzled into his side. Clay could feel the warmth radiating off of the other,, and he smiled. He pulled George closer to him and stilled when he heard little snores coming from him. He looked down and studied George's face... he was so.. peaceful. He closed his eyes and dozed off, holding his lover close.


End file.
